


If I Ever Lost My

by makesomelove



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Slapstick, Travel, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-24
Updated: 2009-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesomelove/pseuds/makesomelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon loses his legs (in a nonviolent manner, and in more ways than one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Ever Lost My

One morning Jon woke up feeling lighthearted and free. There was no weight on his shoulders and no skin off his nose. He felt like he could do anything, like his heart could float him anywhere like a balloon of good feelings. He could go to Vegas and see Ryan. He missed seeing him every day and making up songs with him every minute and touching their knees together when they sat. He wondered if Ryan missed it too.

Jon rolled out of bed and immediately fell to the floor. He hated when that happened. His legs must've been seriously asleep. He tried to move them but they wouldn't move. He reached down to squeeze and poke them to get them to wake up (this method also worked on Ryan), but what he felt was nothing.

It's not that he couldn't feel anything; it's that there was nothing there to feel. His legs were missing.

"Oh man," Jon sighed.

Jon didn't remember in particular losing his legs. He remembered having them last night when he went to bed. He sat up and used his arms to pull himself halfway onto his bed. He yanked the blanket away.

There were his legs, safe and sound and snug, and completely unattached to his body. They weren't even bloody, like someone had come into his room and severed them in the night. They were just like prosthetic legs, except actual flesh and bone and blood. His socks were still on the feet.

"Okay," Jon said. Things were not okay, but he was trying not to be weirded out. He pulled himself up onto the bed the rest of the way. He was glad his strong upper body wasn't completely useless now. He didn't exactly get to lift a lot of heavy things in his band, unless you counted Spencer.

Jon reached for his phone and called Tom for help.

"Hey," Jon said when Tom answered. "Could you come over?"

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, concerned. Apparently Jon wasn't doing a very good job of not being weirded out.

"Uh," Jon said. He wasn't sure how to explain this, so he just told Tom the truth.

"Are you high?" Tom asked.

"No," Jon said. Tom pointedly didn't say anything. "Maybe," Jon said.

"I'll leave in a few," Tom sighed.

 

~*~

 

Tom arrived 15 minutes or so later. He knocked at the door like an idiot, even though Jon explained to him that he had no legs and was unable to walk at the moment.

"Come in!" Jon yelled as loud as possible. Luckily Tom heard him and used his key to enter. Jon heard him taking his coat off and talking to one of the cats in a high-pitched cutesy voice. Jon felt like he'd be oddly exposed if Tom saw him without his legs on, so he lay down and covered himself with his blanket.

Tom entered Jon's bedroom with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cat in the other.

"Give me one of those," Jon said.

"You fucking liar!" Tom said, amused. He put the cat on the floor and the coffee on Jon's bedside table, thereby giving Jon neither of them. "You total lazy ass liar, what do you really want? You just --" He flung back the covers and stopped yelling jovially about Jon's laziness.

"Oh," Tom said.

"I know," Jon said.

The cat jumped onto the bed on its own and settled between Jon's detached legs, like it would if they were still attached. It was adorable, because come on, it's a sleeping cat, but also one of the weirdest things Jon had ever seen. Those were his legs, and they should've been on him, but they weren't.

"What the hell is going on?" Tom said. He sat on the edge of the bed and poked one of Jon's legs, which is something Jon hadn't been able to bring himself to do. Jon couldn't feel the poke, thank God, because that would've been insane in a way he couldn't even contemplate.

"I have no idea," Jon said. "They just like... fell off while I was sleeping."

Tom looked at him like he completely understood the language he was speaking. Then he started laughing uncontrollably. Jon joined him, because what the fuck? His legs just fell off. It was the funniest thing, but still the weirdest.

"Oh God," Jon said. He felt phlegmier than usual from all the laughing. He wiped some snot from his nose and wiped it on Tom's shirt.

"God damn it," Tom said. He punched Jon in the thigh, which was still attached to Jon's body, and thankfully Jon could feel that. "Hold on, okay? I'll be back in like 10 minutes."

It was more like 45 minutes. Jon spent the time drinking the coffee Tom left on the table and trying to get his cat to come up to his head. That cat really loved sleeping on his legs.

Tom came back eventually with a folded up wheelchair and another cup of coffee.

"I knew you'd drink it," Tom sighed. He unfolded the wheelchair and presented it with a flourish to Jon.

"Who'd you steal that from?" Jon said.

"Nobody," Tom said. "Whatever, how else are you supposed to get around? I'm not carrying you."

Jon felt that was true. He didn't really want to be carried around by Tom. He pictured himself in one of those baby slings, attached to Tom's back.

"I'd rather have my legs back," Jon said, "but okay."

Tom sat back on the bed and reached for one of Jon's legs. He disturbed the cat for a second, but it went right back to sleep.

"What if we like," Tom said, moving the top of the leg where it should be attached to Jon towards the bottom of the leg still on Jon's body. "Just fit them together? Maybe they'll just go right back on."

He bumped the stumpy parts of Jon's leg together like they were magnets that would just stick together, but nothing happened.

"Or maybe not," Tom said, gingerly placing Jon's leg back where he got it.

They sat there drinking their respective coffees and staring contemplatively at Jon's legs.

"It's weird they're still warm, right?" Jon leaned over and whispered. He didn't know why, but he felt like he'd be disturbing his legs' slumber if he talked any louder.

"It's weird," Tom whispered back.

After a while, Tom helped Jon into his stolen wheelchair. He gently picked up Jon's legs and handed them to him.

"Am I supposed to just walk around like this?" Jon said.

"You're not gonna be walking around anywhere like this," Tom said.

Jon wanted to hit him with his detached leg. "You know what I mean. Put these in like a bag or something."

Tom looked for a spare pillowcase to put the legs in while Jon went to his dresser for some pants. He needed a little help from Tom putting them on.

"Should I just leave them like this?" Jon asked, flapping his floppy, unfilled pant legs around.

"Fold them up," Tom said, cradling the pillowcased legs like they were loaves of bread. "You don't want them to drag."

They took the elevator down. Jon didn't even think about where they were going; he just knew they had to go. He thought about how he was thinking about going to Vegas just a couple hours ago.

Oh, man. His band. Ryan. What was he going to tell them?

Tom wheeled him out of the elevator and asked, "Where are we going?" He sounded just as clueless and weirded out as Jon felt.

"The airport," Jon said.

"They'd never let you through security with two severed legs, you sick fuck," Tom said. "We gotta take the bus or something."

Tom was a bad driver and an even worse wheelchair pusher. He was too fast and he ran into a lot of things. Jon held his legs closer to his chest protectively. They were still warm, like they would be were they attached to the rest of him. It felt kind of like he was holding a baby. He stopped thinking about that, because he started to psych himself into thinking his legs would starting wiggling around and moving on their own.

Ryan might've liked that image.

"Okay, let's take a bus," Jon agreed. "And my legs aren't severed, they're just unattached."

They went to the station. The next trip to Vegas was scheduled to leave in a few hours, so they went back to Jon's apartment to get jackets and to leave food for his cats. Jon also packed an extra pair of socks in case the ones his feet were currently wearing got dirty.

When they got back to the station, passengers were getting aboard the bus to Vegas. The driver and Tom helped Jon get on in his wheelchair.

"Should I put my legs in the overhead compartment or should I hang on to them?" Jon asked.

"Give them to me," Tom sighed.

 

~*~

 

Jon had more experience being on a bus for really long periods of time than Tom at this point in their lives, so he was pretty relaxed. He even fell asleep for a few hours. Tom, on the other hand, got a little cagey.

"Oh my God," Tom moaned pitifully, slamming his head back against his seat. "It's been a million hours."

"It's been like four," Jon said.

"How much longer?"

"I don't know, dude, just chill out." Jon regretted not thinking to bring a deck of cards or a pad of paper or something. They could've played tic tac toe or hangman at least.

The first stop was a relief. Tom actually pushed an old lady to the side to get off the bus. He remembered Jon after a few moments and got back on to help him off.

"Do you need any help?" Tom asked while he was wheeling Jon towards the bathroom.

"No," Jon said easily. Jon crossed his arms to show him how buff he was and Tom laughed.

"You and your guns," Tom shook his head.

Jon went to the bathroom pretty okay. Obviously he wished he had legs to stand on, but he couldn't do anything about that yet. He didn't know why, but it felt really important that he get to Vegas to fix this.

Jon wheeled himself back to the buses. Tom was nowhere to be seen. He was probably running around like a maniac. Jon wished he could, too, but it felt nice to use his arms like this.

Eventually Tom found him and pushed him back to the bus. There was a bus behind it that was loading passengers too, so they had to get a move on.

"Cheetos or Fritos?" Tom asked. He had a bag in each hand.

"Fritos," Jon said.

The bus pulled out onto the freeway again. Jon opened his Fritos and watched Tom eat his Cheetos. He noticed the space between them was empty.

"Did you put my legs in the overhead compartment after all?" Jon asked.

Tom wiped his hand on his pants, leaving orange cheez dust on his knee. He said, "Huh?"

"My legs," Jon said. "Where are they?"

"I thought you had them," Tom said.

"Oh my fucking God," Jon said. He leaned back and closed his mouth. He felt like if he opened it, he would spew Fritos and all of his guts forever. He breathed in and out through his nose until he thought he could speak again.

"Tom, where is this bus going?"

"Uh," Tom squinted up at the front of the bus. "Los Angeles."

Jon was usually a pretty laid back guy, especially with his friends, because they were laid back to him in return. Usually, however, his legs were attached to his body and not on a bus to Vegas because one of his friends led them to the wrong bus.

"I'm gonna kill you," Jon said calmly.

"Look, I mean, what's the worst that could happen?" Tom said, also calmly, like losing Jon's legs was no big deal. He even kept eating his Cheetos. He wiped his hand on his pants after every handful, like that made any sense. His knee was starting to turn orange. Jon wished he had a knee to turn orange with cheez dust.

"Someone finds my legs and freaks out and calls the police and the police figure someone murdered me and then dismembered me and put my legs on a bus, and then the cops tell my family I'm dead?" Jon said. Ryan would like that too. He wouldn't like it if it happened in real life to Jon, but he'd appreciate the story. God damn it, he needed to get on that bus to Vegas. Maybe it'd be at the next rest stop in three hours.

"No way," Tom shook his head. "Why would anyone open an unattended pillowcase on a bus? Someone will probably just give it to lost and found and we can pick them up there."

"I'm gonna kill you so much," Jon said. Tom tried to say something more, but Jon held up his hand and just leaned back and closed his eyes. He really, really hoped that Vegas bus was around.

 

~*~

 

Surprisingly, Jon fell asleep again. It was probably the bus. Being on a bus was lulling to him at this point. He woke up from a dream where his legs were on his body and he was on the band's bus with Ryan. They had been playing one guitar, both of them, but each of them only had one hand. He woke up and he didn't have his legs or Ryan or a guitar. It depressed him.

"How much longer?" Jon said, glum.

"Not long," Tom said, patting Jon's arm.

The next stop was somewhere in Nebraska.

"Nebraska's on the way to Nevada, right?" Tom said. Jon shrugged.

There were two other buses stopped, one in front of theirs and one behind. For the first time all day, Jon felt frustrated by his leglessness. He wanted to get up and run to find his legs, but he couldn't, because he didn't have any legs. It was a vicious circle. He waited for Tom to help him off the bus and push him to the other bus in front of theirs.

"Where's it heading?" Jon asked. He couldn't see the city from where he was.

"Seattle," Tom said. He turned Jon around immediately and wheeled him back to the other bus that was their only hope.

"I'm gonna kill you if this other one isn't going to Vegas," Jon told Tom.

"I know," Tom said.

As they got closer, Jon closed his eyes. He didn't know if he could really kill Tom, especially if Tom ran away from him, but he might die himself if he couldn't get his legs back.

"Well?" Jon asked, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched in waiting.

There was no reply for a minute, so Jon opened his eyes and turned around to punch Tom in the gut, but Tom was no longer behind him. Jon spotted him power-walking towards the bathroom with his head down, like Jon wouldn't be able to see him if he did that. Jon wheeled himself closer to the bus.

It was going to Phoenix.

"Fuck," Jon sighed. His heart sank so low it would've been in his feet if they'd been attached to his body at the time. He was so screwed and he had no idea what to do about it. He wheeled himself towards where Tom had gone, slow and sad with his head down, total Charlie Brown style. He rammed into a couple people, but when they saw he had no legs they forgave him. Jon kind of liked that, that he could apparently get away with being a dickhead, but he'd rather get away on his legs.

"Hey," Tom said, walking up to him. He still kept his distance. "Are you gonna kill me?"

"No," Jon said. "It's not your fault you're retarded."

He wheeled right past where Tom stopped and went to a vending machine. Jon liked to get Whatchamacallits out of them now, because one time Ryan was talking about how Whatchamacallits are weird because you can only get them in the vending machines at bowling alleys. Obviously this wasn't true, because Jon got Whatchamacallits out of the machines at a bunch of rest stops, but he liked that Ryan felt that it was true.

Tom followed him. "Hey, maybe you could call Ryan?"

"Why would I do that," Jon said, punching the vending machine buttons with his fingers.

"He could pick up your legs at the station," Tom said. He bent and got Jon's candy bar out of the machine for him. He handed it to Jon like an olive branch and his face was completely pathetic. Jon decided to forgive him for leaving his legs on a bus they weren't on, which is something he'd never thought he'd have to forgive Tom for.

"Okay," Jon said. "Take us back to the bus. And make sure it's the right fucking bus this time."

Tom almost took them to the bus to Seattle before Jon elbowed him in the gut and pointed him in the right direction. They got on the one to L.A. and Jon got his phone out to make his very important phone call. Jon had never gotten around to taking pictures of people for his phone for their little ID things, but he set Ryan's to a picture of a sunflower that came with the phone. He didn't care how gay it was; Ryan loved sunflowers and Jon loved Ryan.

Jon stared at the sunflower which represented Ryan for a little while before he called.

"Hello?" Ryan answered.

"Hey, Ryan," Jon smiled even though Ryan couldn't see it. He knew Ryan could hear it in his voice. Jon was great at smile voicing. Tom batted his eyelashes and pretended to swoon. Jon flipped him the bird.

"Hey, Jon Walker, what's up? How's Chicago?" Ryan said.

"I wouldn't know," Jon said. "I'm on a bus."

"Where are you going?" Ryan said. Jon liked that Ryan didn't think to or care to ask why or why not a plane.

"Well, I was trying to get to Vegas," Jon started.

"Awesome," Ryan said. He was no good at smile voicing, but Jon thought he could tell he was happy. "Do you need someone to pick you up? I could get the guys and we could come."

"Actually," Jon said. He still didn't know how to explain, to anyone, that he'd lost his legs, and then Tom had lost them even further. He decided not to. "Actually, we could use a ride."

"Oh, who's 'we'?" Ryan asked. He wasn't the type to ask why or why not, but he would ask who.

"Just me and Tom," Jon said. Tom made kissy faces at Jon, and Jon pinched his arm until he stopped and tears came to his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, sure. When do you get here?"

Jon tried to do the math in his head. It would take... some amount of hours to get to L.A. and then... some other amount of hours to go from there to Vegas. He failed at doing the math in his head and just said, "I'll call when we get there."

 

~*~

 

There were only a few more stops between wherever they were and L.A. Jon tried to sleep for most of them, but he felt too anxious. Tom seemed to have grown used to being on a bus for a million hours straight, so he slept fine.

Jon got a few texts from Brendon and Spencer telling him they were excited to receive him in Vegas. Brendon's came off slightly more sexual than Spencer's, and the non-weirdness of it soothed Jon's nerves. Jon told them he was excited to be received. He really was; he'd planned on being received anyway, especially by Ryan. The only difference was that in his plans he'd been whole and together.

Jon let Tom sleep through two rest stops. He kind of hoped he'd piss his pants, just like old times, but he woke up eventually and used the bathroom at the next. That worked better when Tom was drunk, Jon supposed.

Eventually they reached the L.A. bus station. It was mid-morning and Jon was exhausted in all ways possible, and the only bus going to Vegas left in the late afternoon. Jon knew exactly who to call this time.

"Hello?" Pete answered.

"Hey Pete," Jon said. "Can you do me a favor?"

 

~*~

 

"Yo, someone left their shit on the bus."

"Just chuck it in the lost and found."

 

~*~

 

As Jon explained his situation to Pete, it struck him again how strange his situation had actually become. His legs had fallen off for no reason Jon could think of, his best friend sent them away to a city they couldn't get to just yet, and he had to ask Pete Wentz to help him out.

"Now that's a pickle," Pete said once Jon was finished with his tale. Jon heard crunching and yum noises coming from Pete's end. "And you're in a pickle, too," Pete finished, chuckling to himself.

"Can you get us to Vegas faster than Greyhound, or what do you think?" Jon asked.

"I think this is the Cinderella story of our time," Pete said. Jon didn't ask him to explain, because he didn't particularly care, he just wanted his legs back in his arms, but Pete went on anyway. "Your legs are like the slippers, and Ryan is -- "

"Can you or not?" Jon said.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes," Pete said.

A car pulled up soon after and the passenger side window rolled down, slowly revealing Pete's gleeful face. Tom pushed Jon towards the car and helped him inside the car.

"Hey, Jon Walker," Pete laughed to himself. "I guess you're not walking anywhere, though."

"Ha ha," Jon said, pulling himself into the passenger seat.

"Sweet wheels," Pete said. "Does that say 'Target' on the back?"

"You stole a wheelchair from Target?" Jon said.

"Nobody was using it," Tom said.

Pete peeled out of the station, pretty much just for peeling out's sake, not because he needed to peel out, and got on the freeway heading for Vegas.

 

~*~

 

Pete spent most of the time talking about road trips past. Jon was delirious with leglessness and tiredness, so he didn't catch a lot of the stories. The word 'boner' was used a lot, anyway. They pulled over at a rest stop about halfway to Vegas.

"Does anyone have to pee?" Pete asked. He parked his car and leered at Jon's thighs, then at his crotch. "Jon, do you have to pee? I could help you."

"No," Jon said. He wished he could cross his legs. "I'm okay."

"Suit yourself," Pete said, getting out of the car. Tom followed him, not to get help going pee, Jon hoped.

Jon hoped also that his legs were okay. He hadn't had any time to sit there, alone with his thoughts and his stumps, to ponder them. He wondered if they were still warm, or if being separated from Jon had sucked them of their remaining life force, or something. He wondered if someone had taken them for their own perusal, whatever someone could do with two miscellaneous legs. He wondered if he'd ever get them back, and if he couldn't, then if his band would still love him and let him be with them.

He wondered if Ryan could love him like this, and it made him hurt all over thinking about if Ryan couldn't.

Pete came back with two bottles of water, and Tom came back with a bag of pretzels. He handed something to Jon, and it was a Whatchamacallit.

"You looked like you could use it," Tom said, patting his shoulder.

"Thanks," Jon said, holding the candy bar close to his heart.

Pete stopped talking and turned on the radio for the rest of the way.

During the drive, Jon started to feel what he guessed were phantom touches. He thought he could feel a hand on his calf, on his ankle. He didn't know how that was possible, seeing as how he had no calves or ankles on his person at the moment. He just thought he felt them.

 

~*~

 

"Oh," Pete said when they were almost there, "I called Ryan to tell him we were on our way."

"What?" Jon said. "Why would you do that?"

"So he could meet us at the station," Pete said, like it was obvious.

"He's gonna get there before us," Jon said. Then he realized how ridiculous that was, as Ryan never not anywhere before anyone, and he laughed at himself.

"Boy takes forever to get ready," Pete nodded. "We'll probably be waiting hours for him. Maybe we can glue your legs back on by then?"

"Maybe," Jon said.

Jon called Ryan when they got to the bus station to let him know they'd arrived.

"I'm already here," Ryan said.

"Oh, what?" Jon said.

"Yeah," Ryan went on, "I asked around if you'd shown up yet, and they said you weren't here but your stuff was. What's in the pillowcase?"

Jon wanted to die.

"Is it bread? It's still warm," Ryan said. Jon felt a hand on his foot and giggled to himself because it tickled.

"How do you know it's mine?" Jon said hysterically to avoid explaining what the deal was.

"Your name is on the pillowcase, remember? Zack had us do that."

"Look, where are you?" Jon asked, frantic. Don't open the legs, don't open the legs.

"I'm inside on a bench."

"Okay, we'll be right in."

Tom helped Jon into his Target wheelchair. He felt exposed just sitting in it like that, so he asked Tom to give him his jacket to put over his lap. They went inside and Ryan was right there, holding Jon's leg-filled pillowcase. Tom pushed him forward and Pete followed behind.

"Hey," Ryan smiled. He didn't get up but he waved them over. He held the pillowcase out to Jon when he got close enough to take it, and oh fuck, oh fuck, Jon could feel Ryan touching his legs. That's what he felt, Ryan's hands, not phantom hands. "Here's your stuff."

"Thanks for keeping them warm," Jon said.

"What?" Ryan said.

"Thanks," Jon said again. He wasn't so anxious anymore. He was mostly just happy to see Ryan and his legs again, and he was kind of shocked and grossed out that he could feel Ryan touching them when they weren't even attached to the rest of him.

"Did you shave or something?" Ryan asked. "You look different."

Jon hadn't shaved in over a week, but he thought it was cool Ryan was trying.

"He's in a wheelchair, you dumbfuck," Tom said. Jon elbowed him.

"Oh," Ryan shrugged. "I don't notice these things about people, I guess."

"Where are Brendon and Spencer?" Jon asked.

"Pete said to come alone," Ryan said. He didn't even ask why Jon was in a wheelchair. "Is everyone going home with me, or what?"

"It's always good to see you, Ryan Ross," Pete said. He grinned and hugged Ryan, and then took Tom by the elbow. "I'll just drive Tom to the airport."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I should get back," Tom said. He took out his phone and looked at it. "Jesus, I have 43 messages. I told everyone where I was going."

"No you didn't," Jon said.

"Oh," Tom said. He bent down and gave Jon a one-armed hug. "See you later, man."

Pete clapped him on the shoulder and they left.

"Here, let me," Ryan said. He got up and took Jon's pillowcase of legs from him. He held onto the bottom, and Jon could feel Ryan's hands on his feet. It felt strangely intimate. Would Jon have let Ryan touch his feet if they'd been attached to his body?

Would Ryan have wanted to?

Ryan helped Jon get into his car and packed away his wheelchair, still no questions asked. He put Jon's legs in the backseat, like it was any other normal luggage. Jon knew Ryan was absent-minded, but this was ridiculous.

Ryan slid into the driver's seat and put on his shades, like nothing.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" Jon snapped.

"What happened?" Ryan said. Jon wasn't expecting him to actually ask.

"Nothing," Jon said. "I'm sorry I got mad."

"I didn't notice," Ryan said. Jon actually couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or not.

They got to Ryan's house after a short drive. Ryan handed Jon's legs to him so Jon could hold them as he helped Jon inside. Jon was surprised he could actually lift and push Jon around, because he was so spindly. Spindly, that was a good word.

"You're spindly," Jon said to Ryan.

"You're beefy," Ryan said back. He rolled Jon into the living room and sat down on the couch. Jon threw his legs on a chair and felt nothing. He thought it was odd he could only feel Ryan's touch on them, odd but nice.

"Oh, hey," Ryan said suddenly. "What happened to your legs?"

Jon laughed. "Are you noticing just now?"

"I just thought you were like, in a wheelchair. Like, for fun."

"No," Jon said. "My legs fell off."

"Oh, that sucks."

Ryan reached over and poked Jon's thigh. Jon closed his eyes and breathed through it.

"Does it hurt?" Ryan asked.

"No," Jon sighed. "It doesn't hurt."

"Can I see?" Ryan didn't wait for an answer as he moved closer to Jon and started to unroll his pant legs. They flopped to the floor along with Jon's ability to think clearly.

"Do you want me to take my pants off?" Jon said. He didn't know how else Ryan would be able to see his leg stumps unless there was like an x-ray machine here.

"Yeah," Ryan said. He pulled Jon closer to him and unbuttoned his fly for him like he did it all the time. Jon inhaled sharply through his nose, because Ryan didn't do this all the time at all.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"It doesn't hurt," Jon said. He looked right at Ryan and Ryan looked back. "I want you to."

Ryan bit his upper lip with his bottom teeth, and it looked like he had some sort of underbite condition. Jon wanted to kiss him.

"Okay," Ryan said. He tugged at the top of Jon's pants to pull them down, and Jon lifted himself up as much as he could, until his pants were around his thighs, right above where his legs were completely gone.

"I feel like I should do something first," Ryan said. Jon didn't know what something Ryan felt like he should do. Jon felt like Ryan should kiss him. "I'm taking your pants off."

"I know," Jon said. He put his palm against the back of Ryan's head and brought their mouths together.

Ryan kissed him back immediately. He moved his hands from Jon's pants and put them on Jon's face. He stood up, bent over low so he didn't have to stop kissing Jon, and moved to straddle Jon's lap in the wheelchair. Jon felt strange, this wasn't even his wheelchair, but he wanted Ryan in his lap. He was so thrilled that Ryan wanted in his lap, too, even though he was without his legs.

Jon put his arms around Ryan's back and pulled his body closer to his own. Ryan pressed his hips closer to Jon's, and Jon put his feet on the floor to leverage himself to thrust up.

"Wait," Jon said, pulling away from Ryan. Ryan put his forehead against Jon's and breathed heavily against his nose.

"Okay," Ryan said. He sounded sad that Jon had stopped kissing him.

"I have legs," Jon said. He wheeled them back a few inches using his very own feet.

"Oh, that's weird," Ryan said. He ducked his head lower to kiss Jon on the mouth. Jon turned his head momentarily to look for the pillowcase that had been holding Jon's legs. It was on Ryan's chair still, empty. So weird, so fucking weird, but couldn't think about it yet.

"We should write a song about this," Ryan said with his lips against Jon's cheek. He turned Jon's head so he could get at his mouth again. Then he took off Jon's pants the rest of the way.

 

~*~THE END~*~

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely GOD AWFUL. I have no explanation for this other than Legless Jon Walker makes me lol and I am out of my mind while I'm at work.


End file.
